


Family—

by incorrectbatfam



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and the Signal (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: “Your assignment over the weekend is to write a poem about your family.”
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon & Duke Thomas, Carrie Kelley & Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas, Cullen Row & Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas, Duke Thomas & Bruce Wayne, Duke Thomas & Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas & Jason Todd, Harper Row & Duke Thomas, Kate Kane & Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown & Duke Thomas, Tim Drake & Duke Thomas
Comments: 13
Kudos: 325





	Family—

_ “Your assignment over the weekend is to use the techniques we learned to write a poem about your family.” _

The teacher’s words echoed over and over as Duke wracked his brain. 

**_Family_ ** **.**

Scrawled at the top of the page, the word taunted him. The afternoon was supposed to be the perfect time to write—most of the Manor’s occupants were still at work or school. It was just him and Stephanie who ended earlier than the rest.

When he tried to think of family, all he saw were memories of his parents and the Joker and that godforsaken laughing gas. He had countless poems about his mother and his life before. He even had a couple about his foster homes and the people he met back during the We Are Robin movement. 

But those weren’t things he could talk about in a school assignment, lest he send CPS knocking at the door or expose the identities of all of Gotham’s heroes. 

Duke groaned and smacked his head on the table.

_ “Stupid brain can’t do words.”  _

A voice piped up. “This is why I didn’t pick AP English.”

He lifted his head to meet Steph’s eyes. The latter was on her tiptoes, retrieving the cookie jar from the top shelf.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, unscrewing the lid.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just… I got this poetry assignment but I can’t think of what to write. Like, where do I even start?”

She strolled over, jar still under her arm. Duke moved his books as she hopped onto the table, making herself comfortable. 

“What have you got so far?” she asked.

He showed her the empty notebook page.

Steph winced. “Oof, you got it real bad. I’d give you hand, but writing’s not really my forte. I have something that might help, though, if you want.”

“Sure,” he replied. “Why not.”

She reached into the jar and pulled out the last chocolate chip cookie.

“Food always helps me,” Steph said, breaking off a piece and handing it to him. “Here you go—I split it fifty-fifty.”

It was more like seventy-thirty, but Duke was too preoccupied to complain. He simply arched an eyebrow and nibbled on his third as Steph walked away.

As soon as she was out of sight, he picked up his pencil and wrote his first line.

**Family—**

**shares the last cookie,**

**and keeps the bigger half.**

Despite evening patrols approaching, Duke hadn’t moved from where he was busy glaring at the page, as if words would magically appear if the paper felt intimidated enough. Steph had been of some help, but it wasn’t long before he found himself stuck once again, searching for ideas.

A fridge opening caught his attention. He whipped his head around to see his oldest brother cracking open a protein shake.

Dick seemed surprised to see the younger one still there.

“Hey, I thought were getting ready for patrol,” he said.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” Duke replied. “I just gotta finish this thing for class.”

“AP English, right? With Ms. Jones?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh man, that woman hated me,” Dick said. “She was all like  _ ‘you get a B-minus for forgetting a comma’ _ and  _ ‘you can’t swing on the lights’ _ and  _ ‘you’re two minutes late so I’m locking you out’ _ .”

“So she’s always been the worst. Good to know.”

The table groaned as Dick sat on it the same way Steph did. He glanced at the page.

“Lemme guess, writer’s block?”

“Pretty much,” Duke said. “I can’t think of anything. You took this class before, got any tips?”

“Actually, I do,” Dick said, before proceeding to take the world’s longest sip.

Duke tapped his eraser on the table. “Well?”

Dick held up one finger as he slowly finished the rest of the drink. Duke rolled his eyes.

Finally, Dick capped the empty bottle and answered, “The key to beating writer’s block is to stop trying so hard. You’re not gonna get anywhere by sitting in one spot. Plus, it’s the weekend. You should be out enjoying yourself.”

**Family—**

**gives advice when you ask**

“Huh,” Duke said, surprised. “Y’know, I’ll give it a shot. That might actually work.”

“I’ve had my fair share of writer’s block,” the older one replied, “so I know what I’m talking about. Speaking of which, has anyone ever given you The Talk?”

Duke scrambled to gather his things. “Not happening.”

“What? I have valuable insight!”

“Nope,” he said. “I’m not about to receive The Talk from a guy named Dick. See ya after patrol!”

**and when you don’t.**

“Alright, I think I narrowed down Black Mask’s location,” Duke said, flipping through a thin stack of papers. “There’s a factory uptown that shut down last year, but as of last Tuesday there’s been an influx of vehicles going in and out between the hours of seven and ten P.M.” 

He slapped the folder down next Harper, who was fine-tuning her taser gun, and said, “I think Sionis might be using that as one of his distribution centers. I say we go in, do some recon, and based on what we find, we can plan our next steps.”

She took one look at the case file and said, “You got the wrong place.”

Duke’s face fell. 

“What? No, that’s not possible!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been monitoring this place ever since we got eyewitness reports of suspicious activity, and I think we have enough evidence to make a move.”

Harper set the gun down. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you never use eyewitnesses as your primary source? People lie and suck at remembering things.”

She flipped the page to a grainy black-and-white photograph and pointed to the van on it. “That’s not one of Black Mask’s vehicles. The make and model is inconsistent with what he normally uses and the license plate isn’t even a New Jersey one—it’s from North Carolina.” 

Harper rifled through a few pages before picking out a screenshot from a surveillance camera. “You can see a bunch of orange cones and guys wearing vests in the background here, plus over there’s a truck with the construction company’s logo. None of the cars or supplies or anything indicate anything shady. Chances are, you got an unreliable witness and faulty evidence, ‘cause these are just some folks surveying a potential building site.”

**Family—**

**doesn’t hold back**

**pointing out your mistakes,**

Deflated, he took the folder back and said, “Guess I gotta go back to the drawing board.”

“Actually,” Cullen interjected, “you don’t need to start from scratch. Remember that selfie you took last night?”

Duke fumbled through his pockets for his phone and pulled up a picture from on top of a building.

“This one?” he asked.

Cullen plucked the phone from his hand and walked over to the Batcomputer.

“I noticed this when you sent it in the group chat,” he said, “but I wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”

Duke cringed and both the Row siblings snickered as Cullen blew up the photo on the big screen.

“First,” Cullen said, “do us all a favor never dab on camera again. Scratch that—just never dab again.”

Duke playfully shoved his brother. “Jerk.”

Cullen plopped down in swivel chair and highlighted a portion of the photo, zooming in on Duke’s bent elbow. Harper stifled a laugh and mumbled something along the lines of “looks like a butt”.

Duke fished a paper ball out of the trash can and tossed it in her direction before turning back to the screen.

“Now,” Cullen said, “we can see a rear bumper here. It’s kinda blurry, so let me enhance that…”

He tapped a few keys and as if putting on a pair of glasses for the first time, the picture grew clearer, revealing a long series of letters and numbers. 

“ _ Viola _ ,” he said. “That is, without a doubt, one of Black Mask’s. All you gotta do is track that serial number and you should be good to go.” He leaned back. “Batman’s not the only one who can work a computer.”

Duke breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, dude. I owe you one.”

With a smile, Cullen replied, “I’m gonna keep that in mind.”

**nor do they hold back**

**helping you become better.**

In Duke’s opinion, stakeouts were the worst part of any mission—waiting for hours in uncomfortable positions, carefully watching as nothing happened.

Doing it alone was even worse. With no one around, it wasn’t long until all his worst thoughts caught up to him.

He shouldn’t have let the Joker get to his parents. He should have fought harder. He should have been a better son.

Duke wiped his eyes as a figure landed beside him.

“Hey, Black Bat,” he said. “You here for reinforcements?”

Cass shook her head.

“Good,” Duke said, putting his binoculars down, “‘cause so far the most interesting thing was a pigeon making its nest.”

The girl tilted her head. “Brother looks sad.”

“It’s nothing,” he brushed off. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

She sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, saying nothing. 

Duke smiled.

**Family—**

**silent company**

**speaks volumes.**

“Signal, on your left!”

Gunshots rang through the air. Duke dove to the side as bullets whizzed through the air, inches from his face. 

He watched as the light traveled down a long corridor, seconds before the switch was turned on. The shadow was unmistakeable—Black Mask was headed for the exit. 

Chasing after, Duke stopped as a group of minions surrounded him. He deflected their shots, but there were too many. They encroached him from all sides. Back against the wall, he scanned for a way out, but to no avail.

A bullet grazed his armor, and in the split second he had his guard down, one of the henchmen pinned him against the wall and pointed a gun to his forehead.

There was a  _ click _ —the sound of a gun cocking—followed by a, “If you’re smart, you’d let him go.”

The henchman released Duke and backed away, hands up in surrender.

“Hood, what are you doing here?” Duke asked.

“Does it matter?” Jason countered. “Go after Mask.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just  _ go _ .”

With a nod, Duke sprinted down the hall towards the villain’s shadow.

**Family—**

**has your back**

And if he tripped a few goons along the way to make things easier for Jason, well, no one but him had to know.

**like you have theirs.**

The mission turned out to be a bust. The villain got away despite Signal, Black Bat, and Red Hood tailing him. And now Duke had to write a report detailing everything that went wrong. Fun.

“You know,” Babs said, looking up from her casework, “this reminds me of one of my Batgirl missions.”

Duke paused his typing. “Really?”

“Yep,” she said. “I was just starting out and there was this low-level robber who was probably, like, a marathon runner or something in retrospect. I chased him on foot for, what, ten blocks almost? Then he escaped via an alley that I didn’t even know existed. And my costume was all scuffed up and it was summer, so I got really sweaty. I looked  _ really _ stupid.”

“That sounds rough,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“It was at the time,” she replied. “But it makes for a pretty great story now.”

Duke cracked a smile. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

**Family—**

**something new to learn,**

**something new to love.**

Duke knew he was going to have to face Bruce and explain how he messed up. It was standard practice in the household. The Batman had high standards and falling short meant disappointment and rejection.

Not that Duke actively sought Bruce’s approval. It was simply… something nice to have.

He expected a scolding—another lecture about the importance of the crusade—when he handed Bruce the file. There was a tense moment as the man read it over, carefully inspecting every line.

What Duke didn’t expect was a hand on his shoulder and a, “Good job, son.”

Duke blinked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “What?”

“I said you did good,” Bruce repeated.

“But I let Black Mask get away,” he said. “I failed.”

Bruce knelt down and took off his cowl. “Black Mask is a criminal mastermind who’s been evading justice as long as I can remember. He’s escaped me countless of times. All I care about is that you tried your best. Now, c’mere.”

He held his arms out, and Duke didn’t think twice before running into them.

**Family—**

**proud of you**

**with or without trophies.**

“DUKE! DUKE WAKE UP!”

He groaned and covered his ears with a pillow, but that did nothing as he felt a weight jump on his bed.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned.

Said weight plopped down next to him, saying, “Come on, I wanna be the first in line!”

Duke opened a bleary eye to meet Carrie. The thirteen-year-old was so close that he almost bumped into her glasses as he got up.

“Awesome, you’re up!” she exclaimed. “Bruce is out by the car, I’m gonna get the others.”

“Wait, where are we going again?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Batpizza. The new pizza place that’s opening today,” Carrie answered. “Where they have pizzas in the shape of everyone’s logo!”

He smiled. “Alright, give me five minutes.”

Twenty minutes later—sandwiched between his two youngest siblings, while being forced to listen to Dick and Jason fight over the radio—the family arrived at a pizza parlor that looked on par for a Bat-themed eatery. As soon as the car stopped, everyone scrambled to be the first ones in. Carrie kneed Duke as she climbed over and raced to the door. Laughing, he followed.

“Calm down, kids,” Bruce said. “Everybody, what do you want?”

“Ooh!” replied Dick. “Sausage and olives!”

“Anything vegetarian,” said Damian.

“Cullen and I can share the five-cheese one,” answered Harper.

“Extra pineapple!” exclaimed Carrie, earning a chorus of disgusted noises.

“Don’t listen to her,” Duke joked, earning him a playful whack to the head.

The eleven kids crowded into two adjacent booths while Bruce and Alfred got a nearby table. 

Their pizzas came out shortly after, and before anyone could reach for a slice, Carrie shouted, “Wait! I wanna save this moment. Our first ever Batpizza.”

She whipped out her phone and motioned for everyone to come closer.

“Ugh, I’m not even in the frame,” Steph complained. “You need a longer arm.”

“Here, lemme try,” Dick said, taking the phone.

Duke hummed, dissatisfied. “This isn’t working. Maybe try climbing on someone’s shoulders?”

Carrie maneuvered herself onto Jason’s back, much to the latter’s displeasure. She stretched her phone out again, only to shake her head and clamber back down.

“Too tall,” she said. “It doesn’t look good.”

Her eyes scanned the others until they landed on Duke. Smiling, he bent down and let her climb onto her shoulders.

Holding out the camera, she said, “Say  _ ‘pineapple’ _ !”

“Not saying that,” Duke replied, still smiling.

**Family—**

**try new things,**

**make lasting memories.**

Duke adjusted the velcro strap on his vest and checked the nickname on his laser tag gun.

Turning towards Tim, he said, “Mine says  _ ‘Quasar’ _ . What about yours?”

The older boy glanced down and replied, “ _ ‘Supernova’ _ .”

“Aw come on, how come you got the good one?” Duke whined.

“Not my fault you got stuck taking Damian to the bathroom,” Tim teased.

Duke retaliated by pointing his gun at Tim’s vest and pulling the trigger, despite the fact that they were on the same color team.

“No fair!” Tim exclaimed. “You can’t do that!”

Duke stuck his tongue out at him. “Points are points, and there are no rules against friendly fire.”

Tim grinned deviously. “In that case…”

As soon as his vest lit up again, he pointed his gun at Duke’s vest and fired back.

Duke scoffed. “Oh, you’re on, Drake!”

Soon the two found themselves running in circles around the black light arena, aiming for each other and  _ only _ each other. It wasn’t hard to find each other—Duke used his powers to see through the dark and Tim followed the sound of Duke’s loud laughter.

Duke’s vest buzzed and the lights blinked. He followed it to the source: a random child on the opposing team. Before he could lift his gun, the kid’s vest buzzed.

“Nobody messes with my brother but me,” declared Tim. “Now, where were we?”

“Thanks,” Duke said, smiling. “Also…”

He fired at Tim and dashed away.

**Family—**

**bicker with each other,**

**face the world together.**

Duke fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he stepped to the front of the room. Everyone else already had their turn, so it was down to him. Glancing around the neon-lit lounge, he shouldn’t have been as nervous as he was. They were his family, after all.

_ “A big family,” _ he reminded himself, unhelpfully.  _ “A big crowd, all watching you.” _

The microphone squeaked as he mistakenly stepped on the cable. Babs was by the karaoke machine, waiting for his cue. 

Duke fought criminals on a nightly basis with no problem, so why were his palms suddenly sweaty? His eyes darted around the room, and he could almost feel the judgment in their stares.

He felt someone nudge him.

“Would it help if you weren’t alone?”

He looked up and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Thanks, Aunt Kate.”

Kate grabbed a second mic and asked, “How about a classic? Like,  _ Don’t Stop Believin’ _ ?”

Duke adjusted the microphone stand as the nerves left his body. “Let’s do it.”

**Family—**

**tear down walls,**

**break through shells.**

The pizza and laser tag and karaoke were fun, but come nighttime, Duke found himself in his bedroom, poring over the poetry assignment. He had most of it written; all he needed were a few more lines to round it out. He chewed on the end of his pencil, deep in thought.

The door flew open, creating an indent as it hit the wall with full force. Before he could process what was happening, his youngest sibling marched up to him, slammed a mug on the desk, and shoved a cat into Duke’s lap.

“What the f–”

“I was informed that you are working on a crucial academic project,” Damian said. “I have decided to assist you. You clearly need it.”

“Um, that’s nice, but I’m–”

Duke was cut off again as the younger one continued. “I made a traditional mint tea to boost concentration. It is best if you drink it while it’s still hot.”

“And the cat?” he asked.

“He will keep you company and bring good tidings,” answered Damian. “Alfred is the finest of his specimen, after all.”

Duke chuckled and ruffled Damian’s hair, narrowly avoiding as Damian tried to slap his hand away. 

“Thanks, kid. I appreciate it.”

With a soft  _ “Tt” _ , Damian walked out of the room as swiftly as he entered.

Duke turned back to his notebook.

**Family—**

**not always perfect at love**

**but for you, they try.**

_ Knock knock knock. _

“Come in,” Duke called.

Alfred opened the door with a bowl of popcorn in hand. He took one look at the dent Damian left and sighed.

“At least he is using the doors,” the butler muttered.

Duke raised an eyebrow. “What’s up, Alfie?”

Alfred cleared his throat and replied, “Master Duke, movie night is about to begin.”

“Uh…”

He glanced at the page. The poem only needed one more addition to finish it off—just a few more words to fully express his thoughts. He didn’t want to abandon it when he was this close to completing it.

“They reserved a spot for you,” Alfred said. “Everybody is waiting.”

He bit his lip.

“Give me thirty seconds,” he said.

Duke picked up his pencil and jotted down one last line before closing the notebook.

**Family—**

**you never question**

**whether you belong.**


End file.
